


The Watcher of the Wall

by Pendragons Dragonlord (PseudoAuthor)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur-centric, Canon Era, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Series, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoAuthor/pseuds/Pendragons%20Dragonlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur counts the days since he last saw Merlin smile, for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Watcher of the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: There is an OC-suicide and Merlin attempting suicide as well as imagery. No one dies except the OC.  
> References to 2x01 and 5x05.  
> Relationship is sort of pre-slash, to maybe unrequited on Arthur's part.  
> Thanks to TheHatMeister for reading over this :D

His knees are scraped, bloody and raw - drops of muddying red speckling bits of stone as he crawls behind a stack of wooden boxes that have yet to be broken into firewood. No one will find him here and that's brilliant because Iynare is _stupid_. _I'm gonna be out there, not in Camelot_ , he thinks as he gets onto his knees to peer above the stone wall. Rolling green hills and grey skies are in the distance, and he stares trying to imagine what lies beyond because that's where he'll be. He's going to be a knight and save people and he has no time to learn about the proper way to _bow._

The wind whistles as it skates over his skin and he sniffles, wiping his running nose with his sleeve and imagining Iynare's outraged face purpling as he sees the stain of snot.

"Gaius could've tutored me," he mumbles, and rests his hand on the wall’s ledge. He looks down and sees the bustle of Camelot's people making their way about their own lives and he sighs wistfully.

So young and already disillusioned with the life he's been given.

Kids laugh and shout, running through scores of people, tackling each other when they reach a conclusion that he's never been privy to. He peers down and imagines himself going up to them as he is, as they know him now and feels his stomach give a little flop of sadness. They'd bow and curtsey and back away slowly. They'd not look him in the eye. They'd not let him play for fear of injury. Not to themselves but to him. And of course, his life is worth more than there's could ever be...or so he's been told by his father.

He's not so sure.

The sun moves slowly. He wonders how long he has until he'll be found and dragged away into the depths of the library. Geoffrey will be there, sleeping on a leatherbound book no doubt, with a quill in hand, the feather tickling his cheek. He frowns, and thunks his head onto his arms. He'll be forced to study texts that hold no meaning and phrases that are lengthy, almost poetic; as if talking of love but really only meaning, 'yes, my horse has been stolen'.

No doubt if found he'll be forced before his father. He shudders and reconsiders the idea of going back in, knowing that he'll be in trouble regardless of time. May as well make the most of this freedom because lord knows when he'll get it again.

There's movement.

He quickly backs away, pushing himself against the boxes, biting back a gasp as his knees scream. He brings a hand down, and his face twists in disgust feeling the tackiness of blood on his fingertips.

A sob.

Someone is up here with him. He cranes his neck trying to see who it is. A woman. Her hair is dark brown, almost black, like Morgana's. She's skinny, white dress billowing in the breeze and dancing around her calves. Her shoulders quiver and she begins pacing.

He catches sight of her face and recognition and sadness crosses his own.

It's Elaine. One of the women from the kitchen. He likes her. She always passes him extra sweets with a wink and a soft smile. He hasn't seen her in weeks though. No since she lost them. Her husband and a son almost half of his age to illness. He only knows this because he'd come down to find her specifically because well, he'd missed getting those treats.

Elaine's muttering under her breath and her gaze goes out almost searchingly in the distance.

He doesn't know what to do. If he goes out and talks to her then he might get in trouble later on. Maybe she doesn't want company? Elaine could be like him trying to escape Iynare, except she's probably escaping the cook because the cook is scary and not afraid to hit his hands with a wooden spoon. He's told his father about but the it was one of the few times that he laughed...well it wasn't really a laugh, he frowns watching Elaine, it was more of a snort with a tiny smile.

If he stays behind though, it's just two people alone in their misery and he doesn't want her to be miserable. Knights are meant to make things better and he's going to be a knight. Decision made he quietly makes his way towards her stopping a couple of metres away. "Elaine?"

Her step falters, eyes swooping down to him, and he fights the urge to fidget under her stare. "Sire, what are you doing here?" She wipes her eye with the back of her hand and lets out a hitch of breath that manages to leave his eyes stinging and wet. He blinks through it and takes another step closer but pauses feeling horror wash through him as he doesn't know what to say. Elaine waits and offers him watery smile. "The little princeling," she gasps looking down at him and bends down by her knees. "Look at the state of you!" He pushes his fringe back and twists his fingers in the hem of his shirt.

She lets out a little whimper as he does so.

"Please don't cry," he whispers finding himself really unsure of what to do.

He doesn't know how much he's hurting her, the golden haired prince who reminds her of her own lost little boy.

"Princeling, you should go, it's cold," Elaine returns, standing up and crossing her arms so she's holding her elbows.

He doesn't want to cause her any trouble, not with her as distraught as she looks. He stutters a little, perhaps finally realising what she means about it being cold, "I...I will...I'm sorry…'bout, your family." She nods and stares out again through the crenulations of the battlement walls. "You won't stay too long?"

Elaine looks back over her shoulder at him and offers him a small smile, that doesn't reach her eyes - it's one he frequently receives from Morgana, and always leaves feeling a little bit lost; unsure of how to act because he knows that that sort of smile is not entirely truthful. "No, I don't plan on staying too long Sire."

He gives her a stiff nod, and begins to walk away, his knees protest only a little now, the air drying his grazes, although it may take a few more days for them to scab over properly.

All of a sudden it gets louder. A cacophony of sounds that seem to be directed his way, and a feeling that passes over him as if carried by the breeze.

He turns his head only to see her standing on the ledge of the wall. Her hands are holding tightly onto the upper merlons as if to ensure that she doesn't fall and a part of him thinks, why are you doing that if you want to fall, before he realises what this all means. He begins stepping towards her just as she let's go and stands as if she's just found her balance.

"Elaine?" he tries.

She doesn't turn around.

There's a scream just as he blinks and he thinks it's her but he opens his eyes to see her still there. Standing tall in the face of air and nothingness.

"Elaine!" He can either get the guards...no by the time he gets to them she may be gone.

_What do I do? Oh gods...Iynare is useless...he didn't prepare me for this…_

Her foot inches forward until he hangs a little over the edge. "Elaine! Please!" And he runs to her. Part of him wants to reach out and grab the bottom of her dress, but he knows that he might get caught up in her decision. He doesn't want to fall with her. "Don't, you'll fall, please!" he shouts again. She spreads her arms out wide on either side of her body and he watches silently, as one barefoot is thrust out into the air, dangling for microseconds before the second one pushes off from the stone and she's tipping forwards tumbling over the edge.

More screams and shouts come and then nothing.

He falls to his hands and knees, ignoring the tearing of his flesh on the stone, and crawls forwards. He takes a gulp of breath, and slowly sits with his back to the wall and part of him wants to look. Elaine's shoes are there, well-worn and discoloured, and he stares trying to figure out why she bothered removing them. Maybe, a small part of him whispers, maybe she flew and he'll look over the edge to see nothing but people watching the sky above their heads as Elaine dances through the clouds, her arms bending to the will of the winds that carry her.

"Sire…" he feels a nudge to his knee and a warm palm pressed against his forehead. He opens his eyes, unsure of when he closed them but startles to note that the sky is darker than before. The hand to his head is drawn away and he looks at it's owner Sir Corneus. He feels someone pressed to his side and sees Leon next to him watching his father carefully, trying to get a gauge on how to help him. Leon shucks off his jacket and puts it across his shoulders. The size is a bit big, and he feels like it swallows him, but it's comforting. The smell of the great hall, and a little bit of sweat meaning that Leon's been running around with the other squires.

Sir Corneus picks him up like he weighs nothing and he wants to ask whether he saw Elaine fly but when he opens his mouth, all he gets is a small shake of the head and a respectfully quiet 'hush Sire'. He presses his face into Sir Corneus' shoulder, only just catching a glimpse of Leon biting his bottom lip looking worriedly back at him.

The castle is quiet and they immediately go to his room. Iynare is waiting, pacing in front of the fireplace with a hand up to his mouth, chewing his nail.

"How am I supposed to teach you when you run off?" It's not a shout, but it's infused with enough anger that he flushes looks down whilst still perched on Sir Corneus' hip.

"Leave him alone, Iynare, it is not the time. Not now."

Iynare opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it, instead he leaves the room, pushing past Gaius at the door. The physician sends him a heated glare and rushes in just as Sir Corneus sits near the fireplace.

Gaius looks at them and quickly takes one of his hands. "Sire, you've worried us all."

"M'fine," he mumbles staring into the fire.

Leon shakes a blanket and tucks it over him. "You're shivering."

"S'ok...thank you, you can go now." He wants to speak to Gaius alone. He needs answers. Sir Corneus carefully stands and then puts him back into the chair making sure to tuck the blanket into the seat so that none of his body heat can escape. Leon rises from the bed, his red hair catching the colour of the fire and gives him a little bow before leaving.

"I'll inform your father that you're here. He'll want to look in on you." Those are not comforting words.

When the room is cleared Gaius comes closer turning the blanket up over his knees to inspect the damage and tuts quietly. "I'll bandage these once I've cleaned them - don’t want an infection coming in now." Gaius brings forth a bowl of water, linen strips and a wash cloth and takes one of his knees in hand. The cloth is a little rough, catching on the little scabs and strips of flesh and he finds tears begin to collect in the corners of his eyes.

"Did you see Elaine?" There's a falter in Gaius' movements, a slight tightening of his lips. It is enough of a confirmation. "Why Gaius?" Gaius looks up sharply at his question. "It would hurt to fall so far...why would she want to be hurt?" He whispers the question, afraid of the answer but unsure as to why.

Gaius sighs and begins to wrap a knee. The blood's gone, his skin pink, the water in the bowl is pink too. "I'm afraid that Elaine was already hurting before she jumped." He cuts the bandage and throws the scissors sharply across the room, before holding his head in his hands.  "You are far too young to have witnessed something like that." He's never seen Gaius look so distressed. "I suppose, considering what you'll see in the future, this is hardly the worst."

"There's worse?" he echoes quietly.

"Unfortunately. When things appear bad sire, sometimes it appears that there is only one solution." Gaius rises to his feet, moving to the closet to take out a clean night shirt.

He finds himself, efficiently changed into it; the sleeves dangling over his hands and the bottom of the shirt just covering his knees. "Others do this?" He crawls into bed and lays his head on the pillow as Gaius readjusts his bed covers.

"Yes Sire." Gaius pulls out a little bottle and puts it in his hand. "This is a tincture, to help you sleep Sire and recover from the shock of today. I won't force you to take it, but I suggest that you do." Gaius leaves him with a cautious look.

Gaius' words don't leave him.

He thinks to about Elaine, about everything he could have done to change the outcome. Maybe he should have run to find a guard, or maybe he should have run towards her and grabbed the hem of her dress, his own life be damned because at least he would have done something.

I should have made her come with me.

He frowns and turns onto his side watching the fire crackle and spit embers of orange and red. What if there were signs? When did she stop smiling? He worries his bottom lip as he fails to recall. Today was too late, someone should have noticed sooner.  

 _Other’s do this._ Recalling his own words, he fights the burn in his eyes and the lump that develops in his throat.

More people, _his_ people – he wonders how many, how often, just…how?  Surely his father knows, but he won’t dare to ask.

One blink. And then another. Sleep won’t come to him tonight that much he knows for sure.

He gets out of bed, and takes out a long coat as well as candles and slips his feet into his boots. Quietly he slips out of his room and makes his way back to the tower and that wall. Other people do this. They come here and climb onto the wall and then fall and he doesn't understand.

He sits back against the wall, candle next to him and waits, his eyes wide open and peering into the darkness that looms over the castle. There’s a futility in his actions, he realises that this is not the only wall nor is this the only method one would use to take their life. Camelot is filled with swords, and animals that can trample you underfoot, infect you with disease. Plants can be used for poisons. He shudders and realises that his home is a deadly one.

And yet, he has to do something.

So he sits, with his back against the wall, the candle burning to aide his vision in the night, and waits.

"Sire...come inside before they find you."

He gasps, blinking owlishly as his eyes adjust to the light.

"Leon...what…" He remembers why he was here in the first place and shoots up onto his feet, twisting around, palms on top of the stone and stares down at the ground. "Did anyone…" People are bustling again, making their way around kingdom but he swallows catching a stain of brown on the flagstones and tries not to notice the wide berth that that piece of ground receives.

"No, no one, please, you need to go back to your chambers." Leon takes his shoulder and begins to steer him into the castle though rarely used passages.

“Leon, did anyone…in the other parts…”

Leon’s hand tenses briefly on his shoulder, but there is a shake of his head. “Not that I know of.”

He nods in acknowledgement and then suddenly finds himself grasping Leon’s wrist, turning to face him. “Leon, you’re happy aren’t you?” His breath catches as he sees a whisper of Elaine’s thin expression flit across Leon’s face. “Leon?”

There’s a small smile, a quick barely there quirk of lips – that speaks of the truth. “For the most part.”

That night, despite his exhaustion he goes back to the wall.

And then the next night.

And the one after that.

He lasts for three months. Three months of burnt candles, of worried looks from his father and Gaius, of Leon's tired eyes greeting him in the morning light - he’s half convinced that Leon hides in the shadows watching him watch the wall – and still no one has jumped.

He tries to tell himself that no one ever will.

* * *

Merlin's been like a ghost; that’s a bit too kind, he thinks, staring as Merlin disappears off to the kitchen. Merlin would make a horrible ghost. He's pale enough for it, but he's too clumsy to successfully haunt anyone. 

When he tells Morgana this, she looks at him pityingly with a shake of her head and firm words to 'talk to him'.

He bristles because just what does she think he's been trying to do in his very limited and important spare time?

Merlin's elusive, and slippery like the fish he briefly managed to catch with his hands when he was six. His father decided to take him out for the day because he'd been 'running up the walls' as Gaius so generously puts it. Back to the fish, though. He says 'briefly', because he'd caught the damn thing and was grinning, but because it was so slippery he may have squeezed the poor creature a little too tightly. This of course led to it popping up from out of the top his hands and flopping back into the water, swimming away before he had half a mind to bend over and try again.

His manservant is surprisingly similar and despite Morgana's grumblings he's tried. He first tried after the dragon attacked, desperate to make sure that his, well, he’s not entirely sure what to call Merlin at the moment, but he’s attached an importance to him. But yes, he's tried to talk to Merlin but he was always busy, or out on an errand for Gaius. And when Merlin came to attend him, conversation between the two of them was severely lacking when you considered the fact that he killed a dragon and Merlin witnessed it.

On a more serious note, aside from Merlin not looking at him, or talking to him, or being around, Merlin doesn't appear to even smile anymore and none of this is making any sense.

"Merlin!" he says one day as he catches a flash of brown boot turning the corner. He curses under his breath as no head pops around leaving him to walk briskly because he refuses to chase after his manservant in his own castle. "Merlin come here right now!" He infuses as much anger as possible into his voice unaware of the gasps and hands on startled hearts left in his wake. He turns the same corner only to find the corridor empty he speeds up and looks left and right trying to figure out which way to go only to realise that he's spent so much time trying to decide that Merlin could be out of the castle for all he knows.

He turns and goes back to his room dejected and angry.

When Guinevere comes into his chambers with his dinner he immediately rains down questions in hopes of getting at least one good answer.

Startled eyes, stammers and a hard sort of edge that comes from the assumption that he’s asking her to betray Merlin’s trust – which in a way he is, but with the look Guinevere is giving him he doesn’t want to point it out – is all he receives from her.

Before she leaves however, she sighs with one hand at the door and says, “Be…patient with him. I believe that coming from a village such as his, death only occurred on a small scale. What the dragon did…” her voice trails off and she gives him once last look before he dismisses her.

Over dinner he ponders her words, whilst swirling his soup around with a hard piece of bread. Merlin is young. He hasn’t been around death often, he reasons.

Over the next few days he finds himself heeding Guinevere’s words.

Merlin comes to him in the morning, with tired eyes and a murky countenance that leave him unsettled. There is no greeting of ‘lazy daisy’ or those other variants that had him throwing goblets in his manservant’s direction.

At lunch, Merlin cleans quietly. No smiles or jokes. Conversations are one sided. He’s actually taken to talking out loud and replying in Merlin’s voice, in his head. This generally means that he’s so involved in having a conversation with himself that he doesn’t notice Merlin leaving his chambers until it’s too late.

Dinner is stilted and awkward and he doesn’t know how to just _be_ in Merlin’s presence. He wants to talk to Merlin, to have Merlin talk to him, and chastise him for being a prat so that he can call him an idiot.

Touch, that’s something that surprised him. He didn’t realise how much they touched each other. Merlin dressing him, and smoothing the planes of his clothes. And him, a pat on the back, and the slide of his hands around Merlin’s shoulders – it’s maddening, restraining himself because he doesn’t know what to do.

So now they’re both unhappy. And he’s tried, skies above, he’s tried to give Merlin some semblance of happy. He even resorted to one of Bors’ jokes to try and crack a smile.

_“Merlin, you look like a horse.” Merlin doesn’t even bother to look him in the face as he readjusts his collar and jacket. "Because your face is long."_

In his defence, it was Bors’ joke. And Bors’ tends to be as funny as the practise dummy.

All of this has him on edge, and angry, and he’s losing sleep over Merlin because Merlin refuses to move the ends mouth in the upwards direction.

As his father reminds him though (about Camelot, not Merlin, he’s worked that one out himself) he might not be able to fix Merlin at the moment, but he can fix Camelot.

So he does. In the day he helps move stones and rebuilds walls. He directs people to areas most damaged and hands out supplies to those dealt the greatest blow. Sometimes he runs into Gaius who smiles at him softly with a look of pride that makes him want to hide his face behind his hands like a child. Other times he runs into Leon, who as he confesses one day, orchestrates to run into him to makes sure he rests.

The walls go up, the people’s grief lessens, and life continues in that never ending way that it does. And he’s proud to watch it happen until he catches sights of a scrap of red darting across the courtyard. Merlin is there, ever present and yet, not.

And it appears that he is not the only one who notices.

“My lady is looking for you sire,” Guinevere greets him under the alcove of the door looking distressed. “She went out into the rain.”

He curses and takes a step into the deluge before he hears a voice. “Arthur!” He turns and sees Morgana running in their direction, just as drenched as he is.

“Hurry up!” he shouts and disappears through the door making his way to his chambers. As he reaches the door he begins stripping off his gloves, the padding underneath sodden and heavy. “Arthur you must listen to me!”

“What is it this time? I do not have your comb and I refuse to be bullied into buying you a pair of gloves that I know you already have.” He says it as if he’s annoyed but he’s starting to get curious. He looks at her with an air of impatience.

“Merlin, there’s something wrong with Merlin.” There’s a touch of hysteria to her voice. Morgana’s eyes move between the window and Arthur.

He slowly moves to the window and peers outside seeing nothing but an empty square. “What do you mean by that?”

Morgana walks to his desk and rests against it, her hands cradling her elbows as they cross her body. “Arthur, has he spoken to you, at all.”

“No, why?”

“Arthur, please, I am begging you.” She comes over to him and takes his arm, squeezing tighter as he remains silent. “Find him and watch him.” He looks at her and sees the tears that brim in her eyes, not yet falling, but on the verge and nods heavily. Any other time and he would have dismissed her, but this is about Merlin and he finds himself unwilling to risk anything.  

“You know something.” He can tell by the way that she looks around him with a slight shake of her head. “Tell me.” It’s not a request but a command. Her hesitation has his gut churning and his mind going through a million different thoughts that only serve to build his growing terror. “Morgana,” he presses. He can feel his throat begin to close and his heart begin to beat faster. “You have to tell me.”

“There’s rain, so much rain but it washes away the blood on the stones,” she whispers as if she’s watching it happen. He grabs her wrist and tightens his grip ignoring her cry of surprise, breaking whatever trance that took her. “Arthur, you’re hurting-“

“When? Where?” She doesn’t answer fast enough. “Morgana!” He takes her other wrist and grips just as hard, shaking her. Rain, oh grief, his eyes flick to the window and he feels sick as he watches the rain fly down from the sky. “Morgana, speak now – if you hold your tongue and he dies I swear on my life that I’ll remove yours,” he spits the words in his face and shakes her again.

She begins to struggle, moving her wrists and pulling away. “I don’t know!”

“Think!” he roars.

Her chest heaves and the tears finally fall. “He jumps!” she shouts, bowing her head until it touches his hands and sobs begin to wrack her body. “Arthur, oh god, we have to do something.”

He jumps.

He untangles himself from Morgana and runs, not caring if she’s following or not because _he jumps_.

He hasn’t thought about it in years. Elaine. Elaine, on the wall barefoot and staring into nothingness. Three months of crawling out of his bed and waiting with only a candle to keep him company until Leon woke him up. He’s seen deaths by one’s own hand before; poisons, hanging, wrists slashed, bodies charred, self-inflicted stabs that pierce the heart. He seen them all and yet, the thought of falling from the sky is the one that manages to steal his breath and leave him sleepless for nights on end.

He grabs the wall and pulls himself faster and faster as he runs up the spiral staircase that leads him to that wall. Why he goes there first he’ll never know but he does and prays. The door bangs hollowly and he steps out, the rain pelting his skin and the wind howling over his head.

It takes him a few moments to scan around as he runs to that particular section. It’s as if it’s calling out to him, directing him, to that place where life marked him for something more than he knew.

There’s a body crouching on the ledge.

 _Please, please, please,_ goes the litany in his head. Over and over again, those words and nothing more in the face of Merlin’s decision.

He doesn’t know how to do this, he realises. That same fear that gripped him as a child grips him now as he stares at his…

"Merlin,” he only whispers it, afraid to say more lest he send Merlin over the edge in fright. There’s no response but he sees Merlin’s head move and turn in his direction. “Merlin, hey, it's cold, and raining and you'll catch your death-" His mind shudders to a halt at that poor choice of words.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice vanishes in the rumble of rain but he knows that his name is being called so he takes a step forward.

Merlin is in reach but he won’t reach.

“Talk to me,” he says, finding his voice. Merlin stares at him; rain dripping from the tips of his nose and ears, briefly clinging to his eyes lashes that seem darker than before.

“Everything hurts.” He takes another step closer and watches Merlin’s shoulders shake. “So many people, Arthur.” There’s a crack in his voice as Merlin says his name and it splinters his heart into tiny fragments.

“I know,” he says. “People died good people. We did what we could. I did what I could.”

Merlin shakes his head, and looks at him, face crumpling as rainwater slides over its contours. “I should’ve…”

He hears the desolate pained tone of Merlin’s words and shouts, not in anger but frustration because clearly he’s missing out on a vital piece of information. “What Merlin, what should you have done – tell me, because from where I stand you did everything you could to help.”

There’s a tiny hint of exasperation to Merlin’s next words and it makes him want to hit something “Arthur…just, go back inside.”

“No, because if I do, you’ll do something monumentally stupid.” On reflection, they aren’t the wisest words that he could have spoken.

Merlin huffs a laugh, and Arthur almost tears up in happiness hearing the sound that has been missing from his being for too long of a time. His joy however is short lived. Bitterness, colours Merlin’s tone as he says: “Nothing new then.”

Drastic action then. He makes sure that there’s some distance between them both and climbs up trying not to look directly down at the ground that lies beneath them. His armour shifts stiffly, padding weighing him down. He hopes that it’s enough to keep him anchored to the wall.

“Arthur?!” Merlin voice hitches and he turns precariously in his direction. “Get down! What are you doing?” Merlin almost shrieks.  “Have you forgotten about the circlet that sits on your head!”

He smiles at Merlin and points to his head. “What circlet?” Merlin’s mouth drops open, a gaping maw of insolent words and careful guidance that has yet to be spoken and may never be spoken if he doesn’t get this right. “Now we are both just as stupid as each other.”

“Arthur! Oh gods-“

A strong gust of wind hits his back and he grabs the edges tighter, his knuckles doing white and breathe knocked out of his body. For a brief second he closes his eyes. When Morgana said find him and watch him, she probably didn’t intend to have him dangling over the edge of a wall alongside Merlin. “Merlin, whatever issues you have, you tell me. We will fix it okay? Together.”

Merlin looks at him, mouth twisted in fear. “Arthur…get down!”

He shakes his head. “Not without you.”

“Arthur-“ Merlin tries again.

“Merlin, please…for me, I am begging you to live.” He waits; the seconds go by agonisingly slow before he sees a quick bob of Merlin’s head. He doesn’t move until Merlin scrambles carefully off of the wall. Only once he’s certain that Merlin’s two feet are on solid ground does he manoeuvre himself off the ledge and over to Merlin who is skittish, shaking, and hiccuping sobs.

He gently pulls Merlin in close to him and wraps his arm around Merlin’s waist. Only then, does he feel his heartbeat begin to slow down into some semblance of normal.

A few beats pass before he breaks the silence. "You’re going to be alright,” he says softly into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin doesn't move his face from the crook of his neck but mumbles loudly enough that he catches we’re hugging.

“We need to go to Gaius.” He feels Merlin stiffen in his arms and he frowns. “We’re cold, and wet, and you need to talk to him.” He leaves out the part where he needs to talk to Gaius too – not only for how to help Merlin, but to find a sleeping draught that will knock him out so well that he could sleep through a battle.

Gaius chides them both calling them drowned rats before ordering them about and forcing tonics and tinctures down their throats. Eventually Merlin gets sent to bed.  

When Gaius closes the door of Merlin’s room he leans against it and breathes out slowly. “Sire…you will have to be careful with him.”

“I know,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head and tells Gaius that Morgana should be thanked. Gaius makes an odd expression at that, but moves the subject along quickly.

“You should get some sleep.”

No, no sleeping for him. “I can’t,” he confesses. He pulls the blanket tighter across his shoulders.

“Go to your chambers and take the draught.” Gaius puts the bottle in his hand and carefully lifts him onto his feet. He blinks at Gaius strength.

Something must cross his face because Gaius leads him into Merlin’s room. “You won’t be comfortable sire.”

Comfortable isn’t what he needs right now. “The floor will be fine.”

Gaius raises his brow and tuts gently. “Arthur.”

“Please Gaius.”

There’s a shake of defeat and a pillow and extra blanket thrust into his arms. “I won’t be sending Leon to wake you up in the morning,” Gaius says with a hint of a smile.

He finds himself smiling back and nodding in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

Gaius closes the door, leaving him to sit with his back against the wall, facing Merlin’s bed. He sits and waits, the draught never making it down his throat because he won’t sleep, not until he sees Merlin waking up again. Just so he knows.

* * *

 

He uses teasing words in hopes of bringing forth a smile but when Merlin turns around, with that same sort of _what’s the point of anything_ look that he had on his face all those years ago, he stops and says “…I haven’t seen you smile these past three days.”

Merlin’s face stills for a brief moment. It makes Arthur wonder if his words are enough. On that day they weren’t, he had to put himself on the line and there is nothing that will prevent him from doing it again because…

Merlin hasn’t smiled in three days.

It’s what he does. When he remembers, he counts. When it’s been too long he tries to make Merlin smile because he can’t face another test of their strength. Morgana isn’t here to warn him, and he finds himself so busy these days that sometimes he only catches a glimpse of Merlin and that’s not enough to keep him wondering.

He counts. And he worries. And he dreams terrifying dreams in which Merlin’s broken body is the main feature.

_…there’s rain, so much rain but it washes away the blood on the stone…_

Teasing is easy, he allows him to hide, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care. So when he can he finds and watches Merlin and counts the days since he last saw Merlin smile because he needs to know, and he can’t seem to function if he doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Just, watch out for others and look after each other. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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